Never Failing
by ninjakat405
Summary: A short 9/11 remembrance fic. America is walking down the street, wondering if anyone still cares about the life-shattering event eleven years ago when he hears about a certain ceremony.


**A/N: **11 years, man. It's been 11 years. And even though everyone keeps saying the war is over, there's always going to be something out there to fight, always something evil.

Well, my town started this thing last year, and this was my thoughts about it. Mixed with Hetalia.

I don't own Hetalia. If you don't like, don't flame. I tried.

* * *

America toed a loose chunk of cement from the cracked sidewalk and kicked it down the street. The rough uneven block tumbled down the road, clattering and banging, the noises echoing through the air. The night's shadows stole the rock from view until it came to a quivering halt under a street lamp some way down the lane. America shuffled towards it, his sneakers scuffing the concrete of the road.

The blond was met with no resistance as he trudged down the sidewalk. No one gave the nineteen year-old a weird look for playing such a childish game and he didn't get into anyone's way. Because no one was out.

The street was empty, the man's only company the trash bag that was caught up in a sudden wind and a stray cat that darted away as soon as it heard the approaching footsteps. The only sounds were a dog barking back from a house with a white picket fence and the chatter of small bugs. His only friends the thoughts swirling round and round in his head.

They weren't good thoughts, not ones that America would ever call friends. Not with the pain they brought. Each memory that was brought forth against his will brought only pain. America's hand floated to the burn that called its home in the crook of his left collarbone. Even after all that time, it still burned some nights. This night was worse than most.

People should have been out in the streets, either going to some kind of ceremony or even to a cemetery. Every town had its own thing. It wasn't always flashy – nothing was ever as amazing as the one in New York – but people should have known about it. They had been doing it for six years now. And it wasn't something to forget about.

America kicked the stone again and the rock bounced off the front tire of a car to clatter into a parking lot. He jogged over to catch it before it could hit anything else.

He came to a halt when he found that the car that had deflected his stone had been just the beginning of a whole ling of cars, stretching all the way down the street. More vehicles were jammed back into a small parking lot.

America walked between the cars, wondering what was going on. The sign identified it as a school. Maybe there was a football game going on? The field was ablaze of lights, a bunch of people were running about the grounds and hundreds of others sat in metal bleachers.

He was about to turn out when a women called out to him.

"Are you here for the-"

"No, ma'am, I'm not really in the mood for a game right now, but thanks," America told her with a forced smile.

The old woman's face darkened in confusion. "Game? A football game? Oh, no, you have this wrong, this is the town's first 9/11 ceremony!"

America blinked in surprise and let the woman usher him inside the open field and she pointed to the bleachers, directing him where to sit and what time it would start. He found an empty bench away from the crowd and sat, staring at the people crowding the field. More were filing onto the football field even now, military men and police officers in full uniform, firefighters, Knights of Columbus, and even….priests?

The ceremony began with the Star Spangled Banner and ended with the folding of the flag. All the while, men and women were holding back tears, children were learning the legacy, and inspiration speeches were given. Everyone was shocked when a local Muslim group gave a speech of their own.

And America sat in shock.

Yes, it was a bit dingy, long and all the talking made the whole thing kind of tedious to sit through, but it was beautiful. The whole town was assembled, all of these people coming together to _remember_. The people still cared.

_His people still cared._ They still remembered, they still fought, and still they remained strong.

When America walked back home, the scar of the falling Twin Towers hurt just a bit less.


End file.
